Floods. By CpSingleton © 2015
I stand outside of my crust and
Count the rain drops as they fall.
Each one a tear for every year
That death has come to call.
Every tiny life full of rainbow colour
That brightens another’s eye.
The drop that plummets to form
A lake of smiles that have to die.
When will the banks that we give thanks
Burst and flood the plains of thought?
My hands outstretched in vain attempt
Of hope that some out there be caught.